


Melancholy Monastery

by Skittlemuffin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Other, no beta we die like miklan, not happy!, past dimileth, this is short n crappy but i have feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 23:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittlemuffin/pseuds/Skittlemuffin
Summary: Byleth reminisces in a moment of quiet after a century.





	Melancholy Monastery

Being the Archbishop of Garreg Mach Monestary had become...tiring. Byleth never had any time to themself, and even now, 163 years later, sending children off into wars and danger still made them unsettled and flighty. 

They still remember what it did to Linhardt, the way his hands shook while he healed a bleeding Ferdinand. How Ashe cried after shooting the killing arrow at Lonato. How it changed Dimitri- sweet, wonderful Dima- into a feral beast. He never really lost that side of him, even as king. They missed him terribly. 

It tore them apart, watching him age and slow down as the years passed. Byleth never got any older. Even now, the only signs of aging are deepend laugh lines, a little bit of a crease at the corners of their eyes. They still wrote to Rhea, and Seteth. Flayn was off traveling the world, enjoying the time she was graciously gifted. 

Oh, how Byleth  _ached_ when they looked at Flayn. Sweet youthful Flayn, who was in the same friend group as Ingrid, as Felix and Sylvain. As their first family.

Byleth does not have that luxury anymore, however. They threw themself into their duties, teaching and providing guidance while also being a gifted strategist for missions. They want to make their time worth it. They want to shape a world their students would be proud of. A world of peace where they don't have to go off to battles and watch their own friends struck with axes. A world where they don't have to run old lovers through with a lance. 

A world for Sothis. A world for Dimitri. A world for all of them. But that takes progress. So, they sit with an old fur cape around their shoulders, a cup of Chamomile tea in their hands. And they breathe.


End file.
